After Party
by vampirerose49
Summary: After a gig at an after party, 2-D is suddenly struck by his infamous headache. A panic attack forces him out into the cold of the Swedish capital. Murdoc feel obligated to make sure that the singer is safe and sound. Rated M for swears, alcohol and mentionings of sexual nature


The smoke of cigarettes lay heavy in the air. The deafening sound of voices had almost subsided into a white noise and was only drowned by the throbbing bass from the speakers.

 _Out._

 _He needed to get out!_

His head was killing him. Everything was spinning and 2-D felt how a panic attack was slowly creeping up on him. It was just too many people. He stumbled out into the hallway and found his black leather jacket thrown on the floor. He managed to fish up a bottle of painkillers from one of the pockets and clutching a few pills in his hand he went for the bathroom to get some water. The door however was locked and load moans on the other side stated that it wouldn't be unlocked anytime soon. 2-D leaned his head against the door in an attempt to collect his thoughts. Looking to the right he noticed an opened bottle of vodka standing on a bench.

"Fuck it," 2-D mumbled and grabbed the bottle. He put the pills in his mouth and swallowed them with the liquor, ignoring the weak voice in his head that told him that he was an idiot. He was so used to hearing that anyway. After he was sure that everything had been washed down and that the pills would soon work their magic, he felt a little lighter. But the noises in the apartment were still pounding on his brain and the blue haired singer felt the crushing need to get some air. The balcony was full of drunken people chatting and smoking. One guy was happily busy with emptying his bladder over the railing. Nope. That was defiantly not an option. And without further ado, Stuart took the bottle of vodka, walked out the front door and took the lift down.

 **/\/\/\/\/\/\**

Murdoc was irritated. As if it wasn't enough that not even a single bird had been caught in his net yet, now his frontman was disappearing out through the door. Seemingly drunk as hell and without a jacket none the less. The bassist made a loud growl.

"Russ! Fetch 2-D for me!"

Russell, who was sitting in the sofa, raised an eyebrow.

"You go get him," he finally said with his deep voice, casually taking another sip from his beer.

"Excuse me!?" Murdoc hissed in surprise and anger.

"Look; first of all, you can't boss me around like you do with Stu. And second: I'm a little busy right now, dig?" Russell stated calmly while gesturing to the two giggling girls that lay on either side of him. Murdoc's jaw dropped. Great. His singer disappears, his drummer talks back AND is getting lucky, while he, the sex-demon, is not! On top of that he wasn't even half as wasted as he had hoped. What was happening here?

"Fine," he muttered after a while. "Can't let the idiot catch a cold for tomorrows gig."

Murdoc left the living room and pressed himself passed the sweaty bodies before he finally found himself in the hallway. He put on his own military green jacket and headed for the door. Just as he was about to open it he turned back and picked up 2-D's jacket from the floor.

 **/\/\/\/\/\/\**

It was freezing outside. The snow fell softly over his hair but 2-D didn't really mind. It was a nice change from the warm crowd inside. The pain had finally let go of his poor head and he had managed to relax a bit. That said, at least until he heard an all too familiar voice behind him.

"Oi, face-ache!" Murdoc called and made the younger man tense up where he was sitting on the pavement. 2-D turned to answer the bassist while nervously trying to avoid eye contact.

"Muds?" he said, only to be greeted with his own leather jacket being thrown into his face.

"Put it on. How stupid are you to go out in this weather with just a thin t-shirt?" Murdoc said as he lit a cigarette. He sat down next to 2-D, who instinctively moved away and directed his gaze to his sneakers.

"Relax, I'm not gonna hit you," Murdoc murmured almost amused. 2-D did as he had been told and put the jacket on. The sleeves provided a surprisingly welcoming warmth, even though the leather quickly got cold from the chill in the air.

"Thanks," the singer mumbled and raised the bottle of vodka to his lips just to have something to do. The alcohol numbed him from the cold and made his head spin twice as much as before. Almost alone and free from the headache it actually felt pretty nice.

 **/\/\/\/\/\/\**

The two band members sat quiet for a while. The snow started to fall even heavier and as Murdoc flicked his cigarette away he wondered if maybe a storm was nearing. He lit another cigarette and offered it to 2-D. While he watched his front man inhale the smoke he couldn't help but to break the silence.

"So, how are you?" Murdoc startled himself with the question. Why did he care? It was pretty obvious that 2-D wasn't well, but when was he ever? He always seemed to be on the edge of tears or a nervous breakdown. Or both. But running out in ripped jeans and a t-shirt in the middle of Stockholm, a city none of them had ever visited before, that was beyond 2-D-foolishness. Was that worry Murdoc felt deep inside of his dark heart? Yes, of course! But not for 2-d as a person. Absolutely not! But a band was nothing without its singer. You could change and fake pretty much anything but the voice. And Murdoc knew that he would never found another voice like Stuart's. So of course he felt like he had some kind of obligation to take care of the blue haired lad for the sake of Gorillaz' future. However, this didn't stop Murdoc from immediately regretting his show of concern.

2-D on the other hand felt very uncertain of how to answer the question. For all he knew it could just be another excuse to get beat up or threatened. He gave back the cigarette to the bassist and started fiddling with bottle in his hands. If he answered that he was fine, they could all go on with their lives and nothing would be different. He could just stand up, walk inside again and do his best to endure a few more hours. But a part of him wanted a change or at least that someone for once listened to him. No, he wanted Murdoc to listen. He wanted to break down the wall between them and make Murdoc understand that 2-D was not okay. That he was struggling with panic attacks, anxiety and migraines, something that Murdoc should already know if he just picked his head out of his own ass and cared. But would it even be possible to make the Satanist understand these things? In Murdoc's life the most important person was Murdoc. Everyone else were secondary and 2-D wasn't sure if he was even that. He was a thing, a tool, a puppet in Murdoc's game to be remembered and worshipped. The very idea to spill all his emotions right in front of a person like that was ridiculous. Hilarious even. And so, 2-D burst out in a hysterical giggle.

Murdoc starred at his singer with wide eyes. So it had finally happened: 2-D had eventually totally lost it. Great, just great.

"Why are you laughing?" the bassist asked in confusion. He watched as 2-D managed to spill vodka over himself, which only made him laugh even harder. All Murdoc could do was sitting there in a strange mix of amusement and horror and watch as his singer's rabid laughter suddenly subsided into sobs. _Sweet Satan no!_ Murdoc thought. This was too emotional. He couldn't handle this. This was Russell's or even Noodle's department, not hot his. Every part of him was screaming to get back inside. Still he couldn't take his eyes off of 2-D's face and the fresh tears that were falling down it.

"For fuck's sake why are you crying?" Murdoc snapped, making 2-D flinch out of old habit. The sobs stopped and the bassist found himself looking into the dark abyss of 2-D's eyes.

"As if you don't know why," 2-D stated chillingly calm. Murdoc's stomach dropped like a stone. Of course he knew. It wasn't like he was oblivious to his tormenting of his singer. He did it on purpose after all. For Murdoc it was all about making 2-D doubt himself so that he didn't dare to leave the band. To increase his self-loathing to the point where he didn't understand that if he finally got tired of Murdoc's abuse and left Gorillaz, there would be thousands of other bands, begging him to join them. The truth was that Murdoc Niccals was…scared..? He hissed inwardly for even thinking the word. But he was. He was scared of losing 2-D, to lose the band and end up a nobody. He was scared that everything that he had ever done and suffered through to get to this point, would've been in vain. And deep, deep inside, at the centre of the black vacuum that was his heart, he was afraid of losing 2-D as a person. Because at the end of the day he was always there, worshipping the very ground that Murdoc walked on.

 _Geez,_ Murdoc thought to himself. _Am I going soft or something all of a sudden?_ He averted his eyes from 2-D's burning, black gaze. After a few more moments one single word escaped the lips of the bassist.

"Yeah."

2-D nodded and spun the bottle around in his hand, making the liquid swirl inside. The confirmation felt good. Strange, but good. He could've said something poisonous in response but he didn't want to argue. He simply wanted Murdoc to understand for once.

"You know," he said after a while, making Murdoc flinch slightly. "I'm actually not supposed to drink this stuff." As a way of showing exactly what he meant, he raised the bottle and emptied it in three deep sips. Murdoc glanced at him.

"Okay? You've gotten religious or something?" he asked mockingly. His words lured a short laughter from the singer.

"No," 2-D said, suddenly looking very dizzy. "But my doc said that 'cause I take too much painkillers I'm actually forbidden from drinking. It's apparently dangerous." He started giggling at the end of the sentence and Murdoc thought that if it would be another breakdown he would go inside and force Russ to carry 2-D's sorry ass to the loony bin.

"Funny thing is; I just swallowed my pills with this shit," 2-D continued with a sad smile.

"The hell did you do that for?" Murdoc burst out with far too much concern in the voice for his own liking. 2-D shrugged.

"People were fucking in the bathroom. Kitchen was too crowded." And with those words he dropped the bottle and went limb in the snow. His eyes stared up at the stars for a moment before his eyelids fluttered shut.

"Shit!" Murdoc cried. "Hey face-ache!" he continued and tried to shake the taller man into consciousness. It didn't work.

"Oh no you don't!" Murdoc growled. "I'm not letting this band lose its voice just 'cause you're sodding self-destrcutive!" Straddling the unconscious 2-D, the bassist picked up his phone and called a cab. 15 minutes later, the car drew up in front of the two band members and Murdoc half carried, half pushed his frontman into the cab.

"Tuff natt?" the driver asked with a polite smile.

"Do I look like I speak fucking Viking or something?" Murdoc snapped while closing the door. The driver seemed to shrink behind the wheel.

"I'm sorry. I just asked if you had had a rough night," he explained sheepishly. Murdoc gestured to 2-D, who now seemed to be waking up again.

"Well, obviously," the Satanist stated. He texted Russell that they were going back to the hotel and then directed his gaze back to his singer. He would lie if he said that his features weren't painted with something resembling grave concern.

 **/\/\/\/\/\/\**

She was in the middle of episode 48 of "Fullmetal Alchemist" when Noodle heard the key card in the hotel door. She glanced at the clock on the wall. _Already?_ she thought slightly irritated. She paused and put down the iPad to greet her fellow band members. But when she stepped out into the hallway of the room she and 2-D shared, she was met with Murdoc trying to keep the blue haired singer from collapsing on the floor. Without a word Noodle helped the two men to 2-D's double bed. She could ask her questions later.

They helped to take off the singer's clothes and put him in the bed.

"He's freezing," Noodle stated with a hint of shock in her voice.

"Idiot sat down in the snow with no jacket," Murdoc explained and put the duvet over 2-D. Noodle raised an eyebrow at the affectionate gesture but didn't say anything.

"What happened?" she asked and Murdoc explained everything to the woman, including what 2-D had said about the doctor. Noodle shock her head with her eyes fixed on the skinny singer.

"Fuck," she whispered.

"Indeed," the Satanist agreed.

"Anyway, I'm going to bed now," Noodle continued in her normal, cheerful voice and it slightly lightened the mood in the room. Just as she was about to leave the room, Murdoc called out to her.

"You should join us at the next after party. You missed out on a lot of fun."

Noodle just rolled her eyes.

"Muds-darling, trust me: I love to get cat calls from a bunch of disgusting drunkards as much as any girl. But this time of month, it would've ended in murder." She winked at Murdoc and left the room. The bassist blinked and smiled a little. He kept forgetting that not only was Noodle now grown up. But she was a grown up woman on top of that.

He gave his singer one final look before heading towards the door and his own room opposite of 2-D and Noodle's. However, a hand around his wrist stopped him. He looked down and saw 2-D looking at him through pleading, black slits.

"I thought you were asleep," Murdoc said.

"Stay," the singer replied softly.

"What are you playing at now?" the Satanist asked irritated. All he wanted right now was going back to his room, shug some rum and coke and fall asleep.

"Please, Muds. I'm sorry but I don't wanna be alone right now," 2-D in a pathetic, slightly slurred voice. His grip turned to desperate iron around Murdoc's wrist. The older man sighed. He was tired, frozen and (absolutely not!) worried. And honestly he was also dying for some body contact. From that point of view, sharing a big bed with a man he had known for so many years couldn't be that bad, right? Sighing again, he kicked his boots off and took off his jacket.

"You're gonna be the death of me, face-ache," he muttered as he climbed into the bed.

"And you of me, Muds," 2-D whispered with a content grin as he nuzzled closer to the bassist. Murdoc tensed up but the feeling of 2-D's rhythmic heartbeats against his own chest felt strangely comforting. A silent voice in his head whispered "fuck it!" and with that he let go of his pride and image and let the warm sleep claim him.

 **/\/\/\/\/\/\**

The next morning Murdoc woke up to the wonderful smell of toast, eggs and tea. He opened his eyes and found himself staring up at Russell's questioning face. The big man was holding a tray full of all sorts of mouth-watering goodies and Murdoc felt how his stomach screamed for some breakfast. He made an attempt to sit up but found that his right arm was stuck. Looking down he realized that 2-D was laying on it, still fast asleep. Curled up in a fetal position he was holding Murdoc's waist tightly and the Satanist could feel the other man's steady breaths against his chest. At some point during the night the bassist had been too warm and had removed all but his boxers. He was now painfully aware of how the situation looked, as well as 2-D's naked soft skin against his own. He sent a silent prayer to the Devil, that he wouldn't pitch a tent right in front of the drummer.

"Please don't tell me you two were banging!" Russell suddenly burst out with wide eyes. Murdoc for once found that he was at a loss for words. All he could do was silently looking from 2-D to Russell and wish for the gates of Hell to open up and swallow him. The awkward silence was suddenly broken by a girlish laughter as Noodle stepped into the room and saw the scene before her. Murdoc groaned. This was going to be a long day.


End file.
